The Gate of Gods

I'm tired of entirely new things," Tremaine said. "I don't understand most of the old things yet.

His biggest rule was that you didn’t involve anyone who wasn’t already playing the game. Or, as he phrased it, if you have to kill innocent bystanders, then your planning is at fault and someone should best eliminate you.

Join the Rienish navy. See unusual sights. Never sleep with the lights out again.

Morane gestured them to some seats near the front, but close to the archway. Probably Nicholas’s preference, in case someone threw a bomb. Or in case he decided to throw one.

We’re not murderers, Tremaine. We’re killers. There’s a difference. A small difference, but a difference nonetheless.

I thought I had one of your father, but it didn’t develop.” Tremaine nodded ruefully. “It’s the silver nitrate in the film stock. He doesn’t show up on it.” Giaren stared at her blankly. “That was a joke,” she added belatedly. “Oh.” He sounded relieved.

Why, thank you for your permission, Tremaine.” Tremaine made a derisive noise, unimpressed. “Somebody’s got to give you permission, if you won’t give it to yourself.

I should know by now that Tremaine’s definition of eccentric is… eccentric.

If you raise a daughter to be both independent and an excellent marksman, you have to accept the fact that your control over her actions is at an end.

He hadn't said Tremaine was crazy either. He gave the impression that he was used to being pulled out of a sound sleep to humor people in the middle of a cold night... "Maybe that's why I love him," Tremaine thought, lifting an ironic brow at herself. Then she processed that thought. "I do what?

On her bad days, she felt like a dead albatross would be more appropriate headgear for her, suiting her mood and her apparent role in life.

Nicholas, dressed in black and trailing them like a sinister storm cloud, had a dry little preoccupied smile.